


Sees All, Knows None

by weirdocanniboy



Category: Color Me Killer (Visual Novel)
Genre: Abuse, Christianity, Cult themes, Drama, Gen, Religion, Religious Themes, implied assault, implied csa, implied suicidal thoughts ch6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:42:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28180041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weirdocanniboy/pseuds/weirdocanniboy
Summary: A demon and a Prophet walk into a tea party-
Relationships: OC/Canon - Relationship
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

Under normal circumstances, a person of a self proclaimed prophetic nature tended to be turned into a savory silence, but something about this so called “Tipsy” woman eluded Ivy’s attempts at satiating such a desire. Her wild calls to action towards her benefit did more than crawl under Ivy’s skin- it dragged out beneath him an aggravation provoked only by traumatic experience of the same kind. There was no way in Heaven nor Hell that he was going to let such a behavior slide.  
He had reluctantly decided to accept her offer to tea earlier that week, deciding then that he would make a decision: either talk her out of her wild fantasies or take her back for Mama to cook. The address didn’t seem so far from Imre’s abode, but the density of the forest grew sparse and left him panning to the door with an approaching dread in his bones. There was an instant of hesitancy while his fist hovered over the door.  
Knock. Knock.  
Two raps would certainly do. It’s not like the madwoman would have any other company over. And surely enough, they met eyes, one set much more friendly than the other.  
“Right on time! Please, do come in,” Tipsy insisted with an elegant wave inside.  
Ivy snarled and slowly drove past her. Inside was not as sweet smelling as Imre’s, and to Ivy, that meant it smelt horribly. He crossed his arms expectantly and looked back at her. “So what do you want from me,” he more stated than asked.  
“Oh, Ivy, you’re quite the rude one~!” she teased while retrieving the squealing tea kettle. “I simply wanted to spend time with my favorite demi-human.”  
“That’s dumb. If you’re really connected with God, shouldn’t you fear me instead?” He floated by the table while keeping a close eye on her slow and deliberate movements.  
She simply waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t be silly. The Lord and I both know all should be loved and cared for- demon, human, or otherwise.” She poured. “We’re all children of God at the end of the day.”  
Ivy winced. “Funny that you think that.”  
“Would you like to prove me wrong, Ivy?” Tipsy asked with her gently condescending tone. Ivy hissed and sat back against the chair with a reserved clutch to the seat’s edge in preemptive stronghold for if/when her irritating bedside manner were to rupture the little respectable air he managed to keep.  
“Nothing to prove to your type,” he grunted. “It’s not like you’ll listen to reason, anyway…”  
She scoffed playfully. “Is that a jab at my Faith?”  
“It’s a jab at your mentality. I’ve met plenty of decent Christians- none were as weird as you.” Ivy could only grimace at her bemused laughter.  
“Quite an impression I must make, then! To someone as cultured as you.” She set about finger sandwiches and slices of cake. “Of course, assuming you’ve mingled with an audience more diverse than a southern Cathedral..?”  
Ivy rolled his eyes. “Ignoring that you know being in a church gives me headaches, I tend to avoid religious people in the first place if I can help it.”  
“Because of people like me..?” she asked meekly.  
“Precisely,” Ivy confirmed, foolishly thinking they were getting somewhere.  
Tipsy waggled a delicate finger with a click of the tongue. “But there is no person quite like me. Not another that has such-”  
“Such a connection with the Holy, I get it, we all get it,” Ivy interjected. He picked at his cake. “Where exactly did all this prophecy bullshit start, anyway?”  
“I’m SO delighted you ask, my good sir,” Tipsy eagerly replied, interjecting Ivy’s distressed groan with a sweetly cadenced, “My sights of the future and tellings of the Word have started quite some time ago, and I can assure you that I’ve always had a connection with the Holy Spirit. The blessings that have been bestowed upon me were gifted by the Father Himself: not just beauty, but my grace, my intelligence-”  
“Too bad you never were blessed with a grip on reality,” Ivy retorted. He reveled in the slight brow twitch.  
“Just because your Faith has waned doesn’t mean that any form of deviation from your experience is poppycock.”  
“What are you, a grandpa from the 50’s?” Ivy tipped the chair back with a smirk. “Maybe think for a bit: why, of all people in the world, would someone like YOU be chosen as the new Jesus? Wouldn’t you, say, burn my hand when we shook that one time? Or maybe you’d have actually known what I was instead of having to be told?”  
She only sat straight with a huff. “I have no such control over what the Lord allows me to see, just as you have no real control over your powers.”  
Ivy furrowed his brows. “I have better control than you’d ever have,” he threatened as the items on the table began to ever so slowly rise off the white, lacy tablecloth. Tipsy simply grabbed her teacup from middair and took a sip.  
“I certainly have better control over my temper.” Just that phrase alone made Ivy so incredibly tempted to that ribbon and strangle her to death, but he knew he would only prove her right, and being wrong was so much more painful than letting this bitch live.  
The items remained in the hair, and Ivy’s chair legs returned to the ground. “Alright, Ms. Knowitall. What exactly was your goal when you invited me over? To be your cult member? To worship the ground you walk on?”  
“One, not a cult, and two, that sounds lovely, though that wasn’t my intention~” she sang. “I simply wanted to know why you so immediately made me your enemy. It hurt my fragile little heart, you see, having someone so full of potential love be so seething with hatred.”  
“I get the feeling you won’t care if I told you, which I won’t,” Ivy pointedly replied. “Besides, your vague answers are starting to piss me off. Be straightforward for once or I’m leaving.” That in itself didn’t seem to phase her, to Ivy’s irritation.  
“I can’t make you stay for as long as you hate me, love.” Tipsy continued despite Ivy’s obvious disdain for the pet name. “I only want you to know love and joy. All demons are really just fallen angels, and seeing how sweet you are to my dearest uncle, you only made my once pure heart stained with jealousy…”  
“Stay jealous. You’re only getting Friend Ivy when you stop being Crazy Tipsy.” Ivy stood and rested the dishes back on the table.   
“I don’t think I could ever change to meet your high expectations,” she attempted. “But I think if we look past our dissonance, we could get along just as well!”  
Ivy scoffed. “How exactly is a demon child supposed to get along with a Bible Thumper? It’s one thing just not talking about religion, but it’s the only thing you ever focus on. Maybe more people would give a shit about you if you’d make any effort to be a person instead of a prophet.”   
Tipsy stood in his way to the door.   
“I think you’re misunderstanding.” She reached out with menacingly soft hands. “I didn’t want to start out with it, but I think I can save a tortured soul as yours…”  
“Don’t touch me-” Ivy jolted back when her fingertips grazed his jacket sleeve.  
She shook her head. “Do you not understand? We’re polar opposites, you and I! We were destined to meet! Something within you has pulled you to me, that’s why you keep coming back despite your unfair hatred!” She nabbed his sleeve. “You WANT to be saved!”  
“Don’t try to fix me! There’s nothing to save!” Ivy ripped the red cloth from her grasp and he tried to dash past her only to be snagged by the wrist. He couldn’t tell why the touch burned, and he begged reality for it to just be that he was cold.  
Tipsy’s voice mixed with a familiar tone of a memory long past as she called out, “I can make everything better again! I can change your form and erase your sin!”  
The world distorted through the caught light in his tears. He could feel himself jitter as his mind clouded just enough for his levitation to flicker away. “Stop,” he begged, “I don’t want this…”  
“Don’t cry, love! My dear, I can fix you! Just let me touch you-”  
The world went faint.  
Dashes of panicked gasps and spurts of sentences jump cut in his consciousness.

Ivy woke to a dim world holding only the memory of emotional and physical pain. He winced feeling his temples. An ice pack fell into his lap as he sat up slowly.  
The presumed guest room around him was unfamiliar, and it disturbed him how frequent this has become in recent times. The bed beneath him was soft and comfortable... His small, bare feet met the cold floor unexpectedly, and he stopped himself from pushing off before he gained his bearings. Bony legs crossed over soft quilted sheets… the stitching felt familiar, but Ivy doubted it was Imre’s work. The blinds hid the world beyond, but it was easily sunset. Mama would have to have dinner without him… again…  
The door cracked open.  
“I convinced Dad that it wouldn’t be an issue if I had a boy over,” Tipsy cooed between the space.  
Ivy hissed, “Don’t make it sound like we’re together.”  
“Not yet, no,” she responded as she ever so gently slipped in. “But in the meantime, I’m glad that you’re awake. You gave my dad quite a fright being unconscious like that in our living room.”  
“It’s not my fault you grabbed me,” Ivy muttered as he picked at his toes. “It’s too dark to go home either…”  
“It’s not my fault you passed out for so long~!” She pulled up a chair and smiled sweetly in the dim red glow of oncoming night. If anyone did follow her, it would at least be understandable that it would be purely out of looks. Even Ivy couldn’t quite look away from her rust-red eyes. “How are you feeling?”  
“Like shit,” Ivy stated bluntly. “What do you want.”  
Tipsy sighed. “To make sure my beloved guest was okay. I know that you don’t stay injured, but it hurt my heart so much seeing you in pain like that…”  
“Only because you put your nasty hands on me,” he retorted. “I told you to stop!!” He shrank a little. “I told you to stop…”  
Tipsy took this in. She tapped her lips in thought while watching Ivy’s gaze slowly drift to the cold, wooden floor. The silence was almost as painful as the concussion induced headache. He had hoped she would take it as a sign to leave him to his own devices, but he jumped when she spoke again.  
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you distrust me because of someone else’s actions… correct?”  
Well. The woman wasn’t necessarily wrong… “You could say that.”  
Tipsy leaned forward. “Then why not take me as what I’ve done? Why make judgement before even getting a glimpse of my true self?” She extended a hand.  
“Because I’ve seen terror,” Ivy smacked her hand away, “and it looks like you.”  
Another considerate pause.  
“Looks like me… I’ve never met someone who put it that way. I’ve had people be unkind, surely, but to be so honest…” She combed back some of her bangs. “I see deep sadness within you, Ivy. I see something you’ve been hiding even from your most loved ones.”  
“No shit, Sherlock!” Ivy bit back. “I doesn’t take a fucking genius to figure out I’ve got issues!”  
She held out then retracted an offered hand. “But it’s something that’s getting in the way of what could be so beautiful…” Ivy hated that he could hear the melancholy in her voice. That saccharine tone was not going to pull any hospitality from him, not for as long as she was playing her games. “I want to help you, Ivy, I really do. Whatever connections your making are irrelevant to who I am- I would never use you-”  
“Not like that, maybe, but I know you’d find another way! You holier-than-thou Christians are all the same. Finding some sick kick in fixing what’s none of your business just to get what you want. There’s no way I’d trust that you’d help in good faith; there’d be a catch, an interest, something! And then you’d whine and cry saying you only wanted to help when all you really want is gratification.” The bed creaked when his body lifted itself off it. “You’re lucky I’m not dragging you kicking and screaming out this window. I’m not sparing you for your sake- I just don’t want to force a parent to cry while outliving their child.” The pane gave way to open air, and he flew into the cold, dry night before she could even respond.  
The biting chill of the night air squirmed beneath his clothes as he failed to navigate the streets of the night world. At this rate, he’d be closer to city limits than he would to the cottage, and he simply slid through the trees nearby in hopes of finding the solace that was Imre’s place. Even still, the flashbacks wouldn’t stop, and Ivy’s body curled in on itself as he remembered the touch of an unwanted experience creeping inside his flesh, tingling, wailing, searing it’s prints into his mind. He slowed to a stop just on the doorstep.

He laid shivering not from the cold, but from the pain of his stolen childhood.


	2. Chapter 2

Bitter, late autumn left Ivy shivering under the thick quilts that Imre so generously lent. It was uncertain the amount of time spent on the cold concrete of the front porch, but Ivy was simply glad to be inside with stew in his tummy.   
“Your niece is a little monster, you know that?” Ivy gracelessly asked.  
Imre winced at such an insult to his family. “Marcell has said the same… Did she hurt you?”  
Ivy shook his head and curled tighter under the warm fabric. “She put her nubby little fingers on me talking about sin. It made me sick-” he jolted as he realized mid sentence, “I LEFT MY SHOES AT HER PLACE, GODDAMMIT!!” He then promptly slammed his forehead into the coffee table, rattling everything on it. Imre made a cute little noise and rushed over.  
“Please don’t do that to yourself-” He carefully held Ivy back and inspected the quickly fading lump. “Perhaps I can take you there and retrieve them..?”  
Imre’s gentle, familiar touch brought Ivy back down to Earth for at least a few minutes. He took a deep breath and leaned into the bandaged hand softly. “Sure. If you’re there, it should be fine…” He snagged the wrist and kept it there just so he could bury his face into Imre’s comforting and warm palm.   
The gesture seemed to have taken Imre aback, and he quietly stammered, “I believe it’s time for bed… maybe we can go in the morning…” They shared a smile upon meeting eyes. “Good night, Ivy.”  
“Night, Imre…” Ivy’s hand resisted reaching out for Imre to stay. His once tender heart couldn’t stop beating, and he had to take a deep breath in order to calm down. Tomorrow… just get tomorrow over with and he could move on…

Ivy shivered in discomfort knowing who was beyond the walls. Imre had checked multiple times that his brother would not catch them on the property and knocked. Despite having the sweetest of comfort with him, Ivy still chose to hide beside the door frame. Every step that quaked the silence beyond only heightened his tension.  
“Uncle!” The shriek brought feasible pain to Ivy’s ears as Tipsy threw herself at Imre. They were family..! There was no reason for this to burn something inside… Seeing the joy this brought them- so this was what Marcell felt.  
Imre cleared his throat. “I’m simply here to pick up my friend’s shoes. He left them here I’ve been told…”  
As if he was there plain as day, Tipsy turned and beamed at the once hiding ball of fury. “There you are! You left in such a hurry, no wonder you forgot! I foresaw your return- if you’d join me upstairs where you had left them..?” She gestured inside like a poacher befriending a catch.  
Ivy snarled and slid behind Imre. He hissed and clutched the overalls tighter. Light, amused laughter from the taller man brought a softer edge, but didn’t ease his aggravation at all. To Ivy’s chagrin, they both went inside, though Imre was very careful not to touch anything, as though his mere fingertips were to shatter the very matter amongst them. Ivy proceeded to cling to Imre for as long as possible, only choosing to look at Tipsy over the comforting wall of Imre’s broad shoulders.  
“Would you like some tea?” She offered. Her frown at their refusal only lingered seconds before she skipped to the stairs. “Well then~ I suppose we’ll get to the point.”   
Now that Ivy had his comfort human, he actually could take his time looking around him. The pictures on the walls weren’t as family oriented as Imre’s house, and he felt it was a shame since he was hoping for even more cute Marcell photos. Cherubic baby pictures or not, there was still a chill that crawled up his arms that he felt unfortunately nostalgic. It seemed that many aspects of Tipsy’s life brought back memories Ivy had thought long past.  
“Tada~!” Tipsy sang as she presented the lovingly worn boots dramatically. “For a moment, they looked like they could have been yours, Uncle, but the feet were just too dainty of a size~” she teased while holding them out.  
Imre seemed less than flattered at the statement, but delivered the shoes thusly to Ivy. “Thank you for your time, Tipsy. It was very nice to see you again!”  
Ivy wondered how in the world they could be related while he hurriedly stuffed his feet inside. “Okay, I got what I needed, let’s go.” He was about to run off, but Tipsy held out a hand yet again. Ivy snarled even when her eyes held a pleading expression.  
“I’d like to discuss what happened yesterday. For real.”  
Imre looked between the two worriedly. “I personally think that would be a good idea… Ivy, you were awfully distressed, barátom.”  
“I was distressed because SHE put her hands on me!” Ivy shrank to himself with his hands clutching his forearms tightly.   
“And I apologize for that, truly,” Tipsy insisted. “I should have kept my distance as you had requested. It was unbecoming of me as a Child of God to handle you in such a way.”  
Ivy flinched at her religious terminology. “Can you please for once talk like a normal person?” This seemed to confuse Tipsy, so Ivy elaborated, “Use secular words! Leave your freaky cult shit out!”  
Imre flinched at such language, but Tipsy spoke up for him. “There’s no need to speak in such a way; if I am to abide by your demands, then you must, too, keep your language clean!”  
“Fuck you!”  
Imre stood between them with hands raised. “Ivy, stop!”  
“Why are you taking her side??” His voice cracked, but he didn’t care. He yanked away from Imre’s hands, and this only brought anger to Imre’s voice.  
“Stop yelling! I just want this to be civil!” His raised voice didn’t cause Ivy to flinch, but the items around the room began to stir. “She was trying to apologize!”  
“I don’t want it! I thought we were going to be leaving!”  
Tipsy looked around her uncle. “You could have been gone by now if you just accepted my apology!”  
Ivy screamed. He couldn’t argue, he just screamed. Even Imre was against him now..? Why did she have to ruin everything? Why did this have to happen? Why-  
Why was he bleeding everywhere?

“You did the right thing, Uncle,” a voice faded in. “There was no stopping a demon like that.”  
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! You shouldn’t have had to see me like that-” Imre? That sweet, panicked voice, so loaded with remorse… “I shouldn’t have come, I should have asked Marcell, let you mail it-”  
“Worry not, for your sin has been forgiven.” It was too dark, but Ivy had no doubt that was Tipsy. “It was to protect who you love! It was to protect me.”  
When the pain in Ivy’s chest subsided, his limbs tingled with blood flow. He realized that it was burlap that contained him, blocked out the light, and grazed his soon feeling fingertips. The ground pressed into his back slowly as he was lowered into… grass? Then, the unmistakable sound off a shovel meeting soil.  
They were burying him.  
In his mind, he felt around from inside the bag and dragged his mental fingers across the rope. It didn’t seem like a complicated knot, secured surely by Tipsy rather than Imre. It slipped loose and Ivy creeped out. The light of the afternoon burned his retinas, and he had to squint at the silhouettes of his assailants. Imre’s strong body worked the ground effortlessly as Tipsy stood by making idle chatter to calm her uncle. Slowly, Ivy rose behind them. He winced a little feeling the blood stained half of his shirt cling to his body, but he tried to ignore it and focus on the two.  
“Starting a garden, Imre?”  
Imre jumped and swung the shovel into Ivy’s body hard. Ivy could feel bits of his body rupture, and he lifted his sticky shirt to examine the splotches already appearing.  
“Geez, remind me not to throw you a surprise party…”  
“You- but- ...istenem…” Imre stammered in disbelief. His hands shook fiercely and barely held on to the dirty shovel.  
Tipsy seemed equally speechless with her hands gracefully covering her mouth to repress any unsightly noises of fright.  
“You guys act like you’ve never seen a demon before.” Ivy cracked his neck and started filling the hole that was started. “Sorry, but I’m not leaving until my Old Man says so.”  
“So you were serious…” Tipsy chose her words carefully, but even still she appeared dumbfounded.  
Ivy laughed. “You saw my psychic stuff and STILL thought I was fibbing?”  
“It’s just- to see such Divine Intervention-”  
“Sorry, but your Holy Eye is pretty blind to the Unholy.” He stomped the mound flat. “If it even is that.”  
Imre’s eyes began to flow heavily with tears of pure regret. He dropped the shovel and pulled Ivy into a strong bear hug that for once brought no warmth to Ivy’s heart. “Nem fordul elő még egyszer! Remélem, megbocsátasz nekem, nem kellett volna megtennem-” The words gushed out his mouth twice as fast as his tears.  
“Imre, let me go,” Ivy ordered. Imre flinched at the coldness in his voice and slowly detached. Ivy observed the blood that transferred onto Imre’s overalls… the soiled tank top was wrangled off Ivy’s lanky body and held away from the rest of his clothes. He didn’t care now that he was half naked with his upturned cross pulsing with his broken heart in front of unexpected eyes. “I’m going home.”  
“Wait, I have so many questions,” Tipsy began to beg.  
“If I see you one more time before I’m ready, I will break every bone in your body.” His angry glare only slightly softened meeting Imre’s still watering eyes. With a careful, slow pace, he walked on foot into the woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna make a next chapter baaad but I can't think of what to make it about


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This contains Latin! I didn't pay attention in middle school so I had to Google it :D

“Who are you,” Juniper demanded while wielding a pitchfork between the stranger and the door.  
Before their humble cottage stood a strange girl bearing spots on her face and folded hands under her cape. She merely gave a saccharine smile and politely nodded. “I’m an acquaintance with Ivy; I believe he lives here?”  
The ends edged closer at the mention of his name. “How did you find this place? What do you want?”   
“Let’s say that fate guided me here,” the lady sang with a wispy voice of ye olde, calling forth memories unspoken and looked at with disdain. Nay, this wicked soul was here for gain, not trust nor love. Blessed be’nt, this wretch was to leave else the slumber of the demons may march on again with the wrath of Mother’s love.  
“Back at ye, foul scum of the earth,” warned Juniper. “Thine storms gather at a nest suited for the ravens.”  
“Ah!” With a dainty finger, the chosen weapon was lowered so slightly. “Referral to the murder of crows… From what I’ve heard, that’s incorrect. The actual phrase-”  
Juniper hushed with a raised fork. She wasn’t to play these silly word games with a city girl who found a place where devils play… “Choose your words wisely, unkind spectre.”  
“Opting to already refer to me as dead? You’re an interesting woman,” she chided. “I go by Tipsy.” She offered a hand as if expecting a kiss upon the knuckles. “Charmed, I’m sure.”  
“Oh, to bewitch someone else were to be a choice behooved to you,” June growled. “You will tell me your path to this house or be scored into the earth!”  
Tipsy sighed in displeasure. It was clear this city girl wasn’t used to not getting her way. “If you were to retrieve your son, I’m sure you’ll have it settled that I’m harmless! I merely want to talk to him.”  
June didn’t waver, nor her eyes from the source of strife. With a grumble under breath, she called out, “Ivy! Advena or amica?” Through the silence, the wind carried the ever changing scent of her spawn, today smelling like the work of bees and berries.  
The air grew chilled, Ivy with the stare June could feel boring past her shoulder to the girl before her. The threat was clear, but before blood could shed, Ivy pulled mother in and away from the unsightly woman.  
“Illa periculum? Cedo!” She only was relieved by the hands placed on her shoulders.   
“It’s fine, Ma. I know her,” Ivy assured, though looked at Tipsy with a familiar type of scorn. “Unfortunately.”  
“Why, Ivy! You admit to being my acquaintance!” Tipsy dared to step foot in their sanctuary, and faltered not at the jab June attempted to make in defence of their now invaded home. “I’d say that’s a step forward in our relationship, no? And I’ve even met your welcoming mother!” Her thrust open arms were rejected promptly.  
Ivy smiled awkwardly. “Let me put on some tea…”

The silence between the two mentally warring women was filled to the brim with tapped fingers and daggered eyes smithed out of the hottest of fury. Ivy was pretending to be distracted with the chamomile, a hopeless repressant to the tension that carried June’s voice. “So tell me, Advena, what brings you to my son.” Her question had no raise as this was a demand for a response, not request for amicability.  
“Conversation and a truce.” Tipsy put her words simply as she seemed equally simple minded. “There was a spat between him and I, and I only want to settle the wrongdoing.”  
Ivy chimed in sourly, “And I told you I don’t want any!”  
“Then that settles it, leave, adieu, au revoir, and may your sleep be restless,” June attempted to shoo to no avail as the unwanted rodent remained still in the seat she claimed with no offer.  
“I don’t believe you know the full context, Miss…?”  
“You shan’t receive my name, Advena, nor shall you have my hospitality.”  
Tipsy sighed once more to both the other’s annoyance. “I assure you, once I fill you in-” She yelped at her ear being tugged at.  
“Do you have a death wish?” Ivy hissed. “Do you want IMRE dead, too?”  
June placed her laced fingers to her chin and looked between the two in curiosity. As delightful as Tipsy’s shock was, this only gave way to more questions- and June despised not knowing about her baby boy. “Perhaps death would serve them better than I; proceed, Tipsy, with this context you claim I lack.”  
The nervousness dwelling in the eye of her beholder simply was delicious. “I believe a quiet, one on one conversation is due…”  
Ivy took Tipsy by the arm and pulled her towards the stairs. “Yes, actually, that sounds great! We’ll be right out, ma, te amamus!”  
“Ama-” but it was too late, the couple were upstairs. Couple… oh no. Oh no, she better not- June hoisted the dirtied hem of her dress.  
The march upstairs was the silent fury of the plague. Noiseless was her burning desire to remove the seductress from this house- no telling nor wishing to see what could happen to a spawn of a spawn!  
Yet she stopped at the top step, hand short of the knob. Behold, mere inches of wood sealing them off, though the chatter was faint enough for her to press an ear to the grain.  
“Please just leave me alone.”   
“I want to right what has wronged you,” the girls’ voice begged. Her soft tone was despicable, but the sincerity was equally sickening.  
The familiar creak of the bed preceded her son’s, “I was mad before, but now I’m just hurt. You can’t just force change, got it? Imre is one thing, but you TOUCHED me! It made me sick!”  
Tipsy carried herself lightly as she treaded carefully in some direction. “Your arm? I can’t touch your arm?”  
“Anywhere! Don’t touch me anywhere! Not when you’re preaching, not when I’m pulling away!”  
The silence was chilling. “When you said it made you sick…”  
“I meant I felt nauseous. Dizzy? Unwell?”  
“Don’t throw synonyms at me, I get what THAT means….” Pause. “Whatever pain you must have felt was not my intention.”  
“Yeah, well, I felt it anyway! You’re not going to change me. There’s no changing what or who I am, okay? Have you ever considered that the pain you think I’m in has more to do with your obsession of playing the Jesus game?”  
Tipsy scoffed at such an idea. “If you think I call it that, of course you don’t take me seriously-”  
“OF COURSE I DON’T TAKE IT SERIOUSLY!” Ivy interjected with passion. “No one does! They play along with your dumb little games to make your feel better! They think it’s some kind of coping thing because you and your family are three types of messed up OR MORE LIKELY they want to get as far! Away! As possible!”  
June held her breath. Ivy took many, but this left Tipsy without a word. In her search to find some, her steps grew heavy to the door and closer to where June was peeping. A careful step back only halted when Tipsy too was withheld.  
“Wait. I’m sorry.”  
No response.  
“That was too far, and I didn’t think about what I was saying. But neither were you.” She grew further towards his voice. “You didn’t listen to me. I want you to know that I’ve been through some things. I probably won’t talk about them for a long time. You’ve prolly been through some stuff, too, but I think the thing is that you’re blind to how you affect people. This won’t stick probably, but if you want to spend time with me, I think you need to stop trying to change me.”  
The pause turned into silence.  
The knob turned. June moved back to make room and she watched the fading danger make her way down the steps.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tipsy makes an interesting move.

It wasn’t exactly like it was the first secret he hid from mama, but Ivy still felt seven layers of GUILTY holding the truth from her. He scrubbed the dishes, he swept the floor, he SMASHED all the roaches. Anything to keep her mind off of the altercation the other day was a point towards Imre’s safety and indirectly Tipsy’s (though he didn’t particularly care either way so long as Imre didn’t see a connection.)  
Despite all his efforts to keep Mama from being a mother, he was finally worn down by a final “I love you, Sweetheart.”  
“SoTipyInvitedMeOverAndWeFoughtBadAndShePutHerHandsOnMeAnd-”  
“Ivy, please, slow down,” she said in the most patient and loving tone ever.  
He took a breath and slowly explained the predicament, though he was careful to keep Imre out of the explanation. She stood in silence with a tight grip on the mop. Ivy worried that soon he’d have evidence he’d have to clean up, but she spoke just as calmly as before.  
“This woman sounds like a heartache, Ivy. Why are you so worried about her?”  
Ivy fidgeted and avoided looking her in the eye. “I don’t know… maybe because she’s related to Imre? I like him a lot, so keeping in good touch with his family...”  
Mama set aside the broom and cupped his cheeks tenderly. “Do you want to rid this world of this cursed woman? Or do you think she is worth saving?”  
“Saving… the real way?” Ivy shrank a little.  
Mama nodded. “Yes, the real way. Do you think if you did get her past her delusions, you’d have someone worth the company?”  
Ivy’s feet lightly touched the floor and bore his weight. He gripped the sleeves of his jacket and stared down at the dry-rotted wood beneath their feet. Marcell never talked about her. She was never at their house. Ivy had only known about her half as long as he had known Imre, and even Imre had little to say about his own niece. Still, it was hard to keep her out of his mind. Were they really as she said? Naturally drawn to each other? Or maybe he saw in her a piece of his broken memories, slotted between the cruel world and the unrelenting force of the afterlife.  
He nodded. Slowly.  
“I’d like you to talk to her about stalking you to the house, though. We can’t have other dangers approacheth our solitude,” mother warned.  
“Yes, mama.”

Ivy fidgeted angrily by an oak tree. The letter he sent was a brief greeting and request to meet him at a park at dusk, but the crowd dwindled the further the sun went down. His red sleeve suffered a thread being pulled as he failed to keep his mind from weighing itself so hard against this meeting. He initially didn’t even want to see Tipsy, and he doubted she wanted to see him, but the longer he waited, the more impatient he got. Right as the stars started to come out and mock him, a voice called behind him, “Ivy. What did you want to talk about?”  
Okay, at least she showed up… but right as she did, his mind backtracked and wanted out RIGHT THEN. He took a very deep breath and turned. “I want to finally have a conversation about our situation.”  
Tipsy took a seat on the park bench. She didn’t gesture to her side, nor did she make some flirtatious wink or nod. Ivy kept his side clung to the tree trunk.  
“You gave me plenty to think about,” she began. “And you’re right. To start a bond, I must put aside my preconceptions and embrace who you are.”  
Ivy, not entirely convinced, pulled away slightly. “And what else did you think about..?”  
Whatever had been on her mind kept her silent, and it took Ivy a lot of effort to not pressure her into answering anyway.  
Tispy swallowed. “That Imre might still be upset,” she replied quietly.  
Ivy’s heart ran cold. What? Was Imre still mad at him? Did they talk? How even close are they? Imre apologized, didn’t he? Was he lying to make Ivy feel better?  
“Are you saying he’s a liar?” That came out as a blurt, and Ivy pursed his lips in shock of himself.  
Tipsy began slowly. “I don’t know what you mean, but I am saying that he loves family very much. He’d do anything for family, and in that moment, he saw you as a threat.” She was right. He wouldn’t have pulled the knife if Ivy wasn’t being aggressive- he had been close enough to be able to stop whatever Ivy might have thrown, intentionally or not. Even if Tipsy wasn’t living there like Marcell was, that didn’t mean she was any less family. As for Ivy…  
“I suggest not going back for some time. It’s possible he’s started to worry about Marcell’s safety if it meant having you over.”  
He swallowed. His downcast eyes could only observe the ants scurrying beneath his hovering feet. “I guess that ship had sailed. It was nice while it lasted.” It made sense. Too much sense. But every part of Ivy’s body was too tired to fight for something too good to be true. Still, his heart was in pieces, and it pained him deeply to hold back the tears that yearned so deeply to fall to the ground with the rest of his heart.   
Through the warbling light, hands reached and halted short off his. “I’m not as kind and gentle as Uncle, but I’d be happy to keep you company in the meanwhile.”  
Ivy curled his lip. One stitch can’t heal a lost connection. Still, with how insistent she was, with so little people Ivy could keep, the warmth of her hand would do. It didn’t hold the same disciplined roughness, nor the size that carried all of his worries away, but they were small enough to fit within his own, and for that, he was grateful.  
“Mama worried about me seeing you again.”  
“I understand. We had a pretty bad encounter.” Tipsy’s thumb stroked the back of Ivy’s veiny, pale hand with a bittersweet tenderness. “I’m glad I could see you.”  
Ivy couldn’t quite respond to this, especially not in a way that couldn’t hurt her. He swallowed hard. “Do you want to hang out or something?”  
She smiled. “Of course.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HERE COMES TIPSY'S DAD

The joy one feels throughout their life can vary depending on the moments they pause in. The way the sunrays glittered down asphalt on a freshly ended rain, or perhaps the early mornings at the crack of dawn when the world was silent and the air was cool. The calm after some shared laughter, the warm touch of a welcoming hand, or the seconds before waking from a pleasant dream in a comfortable bed.  
For Ivy, that joy was a rat.  
“LOOK AT HOW FAT IT IS, I LOVE IT!!” His unrelenting joy was surprisingly tolerated by Tipsy whom held the delight on display in her palms.  
“I’m glad you like her!” She giggled in amusement and gingerly placed her into Ivy’s palm. The tears that welled in his eyes were combatted as he held the curious rodent with a stroke to her soft, brown back. “She seems to like you.” This only made him cry more.  
“She’s……… so small…….” He breathed a shuttered sigh. “I just…. I just wanna protect her!!!” It wasn’t long until she scuttled along his floating body and explored the strange rotating human she found herself on. “It tickles!” Ivy’s laughter was comfortable for once, and it was a feeling he never thought he’d feel around someone as threatening as Tipsy. “Aren’t you scared of her breaking out and getting lost?”  
Tipsy only sighed. “It wouldn’t be the first time a mouse has done that to me. Their smart and wonderful creatures, but their small bodies love to work against a loving human.” She plucked the baby off him with gentle fingers so as not to brush Ivy himself and carried the little one back to the tank. “The first mouse that escaped returned after three agonizing days. My poor little heart was so broken…”  
“I wish I had pets,” Ivy lamented out loud. “We were never allowed to keep them. Father said they were only for livestock and otherwise ‘need to remain in the domain of the Lord.’ Killjoy…” He noticed this perked Tipsy’s interest, but he was relieved that she didn’t prod him further on the God mention.  
“Father? I only saw your mother last I was at your house.”  
Ivy shook his head. “No, Father of the village. He was the one in charge and everyone referred to him as such.”  
Tipsy reached for her bangs that curtained one side of her face, but opted instead to adjust her cape. “So you grew up away from most towns..?”  
“I was in a cult,” he replied bluntly. She blinked at hearing it, but he continued before she could ask questions. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay? He was just some whackjob that wanted power.”  
Tipsy side-glanced out the window. “That certainly clears some things up. Thank you for trusting me with that information.” That took Ivy by surprise, but he didn’t relax until she shifted her focus on pulling out some treats.  
“Ooh, can I give her some? Please? Please? Please please please-” Only a handful could get his mouth to close, and he happily fed the baby itty bitty mousy wousy oh she was so cute yes she was-  
“It’s reaching dusk. Would you like to stay for dinner?” Her offer, as incredibly unwarranted as it was, kept Ivy in his head for a moment to weigh his options. “Dad will let us eat in my room, so all you have to do is meet him.”  
This was starting to sound like a relationship thing… meeting parents? It was one thing following him into the woods to find their cabin, but now she was trapping him between going home in the dark and meeting her father? Someone he only felt odd intimidation from just knowing how wary Imre seemed to be about him. He rolled his head back with a loooong groan. “Fine. I’ll meet your dad or whatever.”  
Tipsy giddily clapped her hands and got up. “He should be home any minute. Oh!” She nabbed a comb and started getting the knots out of his sheer white hair. Of course he whined and pulled away, but she insisted, claiming he had to present himself if he wanted to make a good impression.  
“Your hair is so wavy..! How did your mother even handle this!”  
“She didn’t! She just let me do whatever!” Ivy pushed her hand away from his ear, but the comb grazed it and he shivered anyway. “Geez, are you done yet?”  
The front door slammed closed.  
“Yes~!” The comb clattered to the desk and Ivy was yanked out. There at the front with the coat still in his hands was presumably Mr Szekeres. The sight itself brought his feet to the floor, thus shrinking him down to his actual height. It only made him seem even taller, and while for Imre, this would be a feat and a comfort, for his brother, it was only an addition to the intimidation factor. Ivy swallowed and allowed the family to talk to each other.  
“Tipsy, is this the boy you told me about..?” Ivy could feel the judgement leering from his cold, dead eyes.  
Tipsy acted as though nothing were wrong, brightly saying, “Yes! Dad, meet Ivy!”  
Ivy, being the anxious Southern child he was, thrust his hand out and calmly greeted, “Awful nice to meet you, sir! Your daughter is a good friend! I appreciate the mouse!” What the fuck, no that wasn’t calm, that was tengential at best! Oh God, Mr Szekeres was going to reciprocate the handshake-  
HE IS STRONG. Not as strong as Imre, but Ivy had to hold back a small wheeze and try hard to mimic the grip.  
“It’s nice to finally meet you. She’s talked a few times about a friend she’s been excited to see. You’re certainly…” He looked Ivy up and down. “An interesting character.”  
Oh god, if only death were permanent… “I get that a lot.” Oh fuck, his hand was getting sweaty….  
“So! Dad!” Tipsy broke the awkward silence. “Ivy can be over for dinner, right?”  
Mr Szekeres eyes the anxious and nervously smiling young man and nodded briefly. This did nothing to ease the adrenaline rushing through Ivy, and only when he left did he collapse to his knees with shaking breath.  
Tipsy kneeled in front of him with a gentle smile. “I think he likes you!”  
“If that’s what he looks like when he likes someone, I don’t wanna piss him off,” Ivy whined. “That’s gotta be the most horrendous introduction I’ve ever done in my life. AND I’VE DONE SOME REALLY BAD ONES!”  
Tipsy just nodded, offered a hand to help him up, and when Ivy observed the upturned palm in place of the usual expectant knuckles, he took it and was hauled up with ease.  
“For example, I wanted to make friends with Imre’s coworker and the first thing I did was talk about ketchup and mustard until he wanted to run away from me.”  
This brought a giggle to Tipsy’s lips as she waltzed to the dining room. “You’re certainly awkward for someone so social! I didn’t expect to see you like that, shaking so scared like you were in Megiddo itself!”  
Ivy growled. “Don’t rub it in, okay! It’s not like I’m like that to everyone. Just the weird, scary ones like your dad or your brother…”  
“You’ve not gotten along with Marcell…” Tipsy thought aloud quietly so that her father couldn’t hear, “Yet Uncle had you over a lot..?”  
“We’re just on different wavelengths is all. When I-” Ivy paused with a noticeable drop in energy, “IF I get to go back, it might be different…”  
Tipsy watched him for a moment. Ivy despised the pity laden in her crimson eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. The seat of the chair was cold as he lowered himself into it. He missed already the feeling of the well used couch and the smell of honey in tea. He couldn’t get used to the strange smells of Tipsy’s house, nor could he find any comfort in the warmth that Imre’s brother lacked. It was frightening how night and day the two seemed, and Ivy couldn’t hear Tipsy’s idle chatter over how badly he wanted to spend time with his friend and closest thing to a father figure.  
This would have to do.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stealing is bad, kids.

Ivy slowly felt the warmth of the bath water melt away. The way it could only engulf most and not all of his body was an unsatisfactory feeling. Even plunged beneath it, only his wing marks exposed to the cold morning air, he still felt no comfort in the way the water could only wrap around so much of him without drowning him completely. For a moment, only for a split second, did he consider letting the water draw the last of the air out of his brittle lungs, but the little voice that feared the moments of afterlife drew his mouth back to the surface to drag air back in. Winter air stung in a way no other season could, and it was the time of year when nature was asleep that Ivy understood how normal humans got depressed at this time.  
Even when the bath was drained, he sat on the floor of the washroom. The chilled pain was a gentle reminder that he still had to live in this world with the consequences of his actions: a punishment for not being the way he should. Few people could drive this feeling away from him, and only one was a constant reminder of both his failings and his inner thoughts. She didn’t have to say a word for Ivy to continue a battle no one started.  
In spite of it all, his body pulled itself from the cold tile and dried itself anyway to embrace what the rest of the day could have to hold against him.

Gracefully, his living reminder hauled him away to window shopping. Tipsy, chipper as ever, made few but distinctive advances to holding Ivy’s hand. Only his hand. Even so, he rejected them each time with scolding eyes. He knew her agreement to refrain was hollow at best, but they both knew it was what kept him near her.  
“Wait, so if neither you nor your mother has a monetary job, how do you do things like get food? I didn’t spot a farm anywhere on your property.”  
“First of all, stop snooping. Second, I do this thing called ‘stealing,’ it’s great,” Ivy chuckled. He was mildly put back at her giggle at such a notion.  
“So have you been doing the same to the places we’ve been?” She looked him over expectantly like her mouse searches for food.  
Ivy shook his head and his jacket. “I just take the essentials, stupid.”  
Tipsy drooped her head in disappointment. “Haven’t you ever wondered about the thrill of taking what you don’t need?” She pointed to a nice pair of shoes on display. “Like those for example. Wouldn’t your mother- or I- look great in those? I’m sure she- or I- would appreciate them!”  
“Mama wears what’s comfortable and she looks great in everything!” Ivy put Tipsy’s hand down. “If you want the shoes, just say so!”  
Tipsy’s eye sparkled as she smirked. “Well, then I say so!” And so the shoes waltzed off the shelf. Literally. She clapped in joy. “Oh dear! To where could they be going?” She followed them as they tapped out the store. Ivy had to admit, the stunned look of a lone employee was delightful, and he followed his accomplice out the store. The coveted shoes were already on her feet. Looks like she was lucky they were in her size.  
“So? Still like them?” Ivy asked with his arms crossed.  
Tipsy bounced forward and embraced Ivy excitedly. “Thank you! Oh, they’re beautiful!” Normally, Ivy would hiss and pull away with a threat, but in that moment, he felt a small spark within that he felt both familiar and frightening. His arms slowly wrapped around her with great hesitation, and he stood utterly starstruck in the odd validation of her gratitude.  
“You wanna go on a shopping spree?” he slowly asked.  
“That would be heavenly,” she crooned.

The few things they did buy were of course from pickpocketed money and cash Tipsy flirted away with. Ivy was left carrying two hefty bags of accessories, stuffed animals, snacks, books, and pet supplies. His skimpy arms were strained, but they were only going to give out when the front door to Tipsy’s house unlocked, through which they were both tossed. Ivy flopped onto the couch with a great heaving sigh.  
“I can’t believe we got away with it!”   
“And I can’t believe you’re actually interested in music theory!” She chuckled and sat on the arm of the couch. “How many books of stanzas did you even snag, anyway?”  
Ivy sighed and rolled over. “Only like 5 or 6… I haven’t observed modern music at all, you know? I only grew up with classics and orchestral stuff I could never just sing.”  
“So you can sing..?”  
“Can’t you? I thought most church goers LOVE their hymns…” Ivy looked up with genuine curiosity.  
Tipsy poshly scoffed. “Of course, my voice was gifted to me personally from the Heavenly Father Himself! But I needn’t waste my talents on a minor show of ego, must I?”  
Ivy muttered, “I dunno, sounds like you’re self conscious…” He laughed at her disgust.  
“Is that a challenge?”  
“Is that offence?” They glared each other down, but Tipsy’s eyes took attention to the toys peeking out the bag nearby.  
“Oh how darling these are!” She plucked the stuff mouse out with care and held it to her heart lovingly as if cradling the real thing. “I’m so glad we managed to find these wonderful gifts! The ethereal nature of the mouse is truly something to behold..!”  
“God, you’re a freak,” Ivy snickered as he, too, held a goat plush.  
Tipsy sneered mockingly. “Your interest in the cloven is certainly on the nose, don’t you think?”  
“And your obsession with rodents kind of shows your true nature, don’t YOU think?”  
“Where the hell did either of you find the money to pay for all this?” Mr Szekeres’s voice called beyond the couch.  
Ivy jolted up and stammered, “I helped! Chipped in! You know!” He laughed forcibly and only raised a concerned eyebrow from the father.  
“Oh, Dad, he’s the kindest person on the planet!” Tipsy scooted close and rested her head on Ivy’s shoulder. “Can you believe he treated me today? And so handsomely, too!” Her hand rested on Ivy’s stuttering heart as she put emphasis on ‘handsomely.’  
Mr Szekeres could only look suspicious of the forest nymph that seemed to have invaded his house, and he inspected one of the bags critically. “What do you do for a living to be able to get all this..?”  
“I SAVED UP!” Ivy blurted. His face was burning and there was no slowing his terrified heart. “I put a lot of effort into this, so you know!” Why was lying so hard to someone like Tipsy’s father..?  
He slowly released the handle and winced at the crack of his joints. “You saved up. Just for my daughter?”  
Ivy nodded earnestly. Their eye contact was tense and uncomfortable.  
“You should be more responsible with your money. Treat her to something more practical like a dinner next time,” he suggested before leaving the room.  
“Dinner..?” Ivy repeated with exasperated breath.  
Tipsy giggled into the crook of Ivy’s neck. “That sounds harder to take, don’t you think?” She hardly wavered in spirit as Ivy finally shoved her off.  
“We’re NOT dating!” he insisted.  
“As far as Dad knows, we are~”  
Oh god, if ONLY death were permanent...


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans for a Sunday night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the false alarm, the original was going to be more angsty but it accomplished nothing and at least this short chapter sets up the next one

“So you’ve NEVER been square dancing?”  
“Never!”  
Ivy. Was. Shocked. He expected that someone as spoiled as Tipsy would have the privilege of experiencing just about anything available to her. He leaned against the dinner table around the little plates of brunch. “So why haven’t you tried it? They have a center for those things on Sunday nights!”  
“Why, Ivy, are you asking me to dance..?” She batted her heavy eyelashes at him with her mockingly flirtatious tone.  
Ivy’s face flared up immediately, and his voice cracked as he denied, “No!! It was just a question! Stop being stupid!” He was frustrated that she knew exactly what he wanted to ask her and managed to twist it into another form of making him embarrassed. It wasn’t fair, and his head spun in making some kind of plan to get back at her.  
“Me, being stupid? I was only taking the next logical step in this conversation! You were so keen on the subject, after all, I don’t think it’s that absurd to wonder about us being that close during a song~!”  
“Square dancing is a group activity, idiot! It wouldn’t just be you and me, it would be everyone else that wanted to dance.” He sat up and drank at least half of his water. “Anyway,” he coughed, “It’s not like you’re even equipped for it. Part of the fun is the formality of the outfits.” He hoped she’d ignore his slight Southern accent slipping out as he explained this.  
“Well, how hard is it to get a square dancing dress?” Tipsy leaned forward with a smirk. “I know you’re experienced enough to snag me one~!”  
Ivy huffed. “Please! Like I’d go through so much effort to stuff that much ruffle and lace in some place just for you to wear once! I’d have an easier time digging through Ma’s old ritual outfits and finding her dress for the occasion!”  
Tipsy paused. “Well, could you?”  
“HOW! DARE YOU!!!” A nearby magazine was rolled up and bapped on Tipsy’s head aggressively as she made such a suggestion. “Mama’s dress was specially sewn just for her and it was only worn during the village anniversaries!!!”  
“So are you saying I’m too big for it?”  
“NO, IT’S SPECIAL AND YOU CAN’T HAVE IT!” Ivy pumped his fists like he could even make a dent in her.  
Tipsy laughed heartily and slowly lowered said fists. “Calm yourself, child! I know more than anyone that holding a wardrobe sacred is a very reasonable thing to do! Besides, I’m sure I can convince Dad to get me one.”  
“Wait, you actually want to go..?” Ivy felt genuine confusion. It felt odd seeing her willing to try an idea of his own for some reason, and remembering what she really was suddenly sent chills to his bones. “Maybe we can do something else like ice skating!”  
“I don’t know, you seemed pretty set on square dancing not too long ago! Now I’m far too curious!”  
This was bad. A cultist around a bunch of gullible, older, probably Christian folk? With a pretty lass like Tipsy, they’d be putty in her hands! Ivy rattled off other activities they could try, but Tipsy’s cruel heart was sold on the dance that was once so fun for Ivy. He was practically dragged by her as he latched onto her sleeve BEGGING to do literally anything else.  
“Why are you suddenly so against it?” Tipsy’s voice leaned into frustration only for her face to light up with a thought. “I get it! You’re bad at dancing!”  
Now, that was just rude. “No way I’m bad at dancing! I just think we’d have more fun doing something else!”  
“That is to say you’d be better at reading a book than dancing?”  
Ivy pouted. “I can read! And I can dance!” Though, honestly, dancing sounded way more fun than reading…  
“Let me just give it a chance! And I promise I won’t laugh at you when you make a fool of yourself!”  
WHEN!! When indeed! “I can’t promise I won’t laugh at YOU when you trip and land on your face!!!”  
“It’s a deal, then! We’re going dancing together!”  
“Deal!”  
Oh God, what had he done.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun turns to failure

“Ivy,” Mama sang from the bottom of the stairs. “You’ve been up there for a while. Are you okay?”  
Ivy, yet again, was not. Brushing his hair tired his arms, Mama had to sew back frayed hems, and the tie on his suit had faded in hue from the exposure to the sun, thus clashing with his ritual outfit. He growled in contempt, tossed the fabric away, and dug in another crate of old belongings. A bolo tie glinted ruby in the evening sunlight. Good enough. He haphazardly tugged it on and opened his bedroom door.  
“Fili mi, you are so handsome!” Mama’s flats clapped up the wooden steps so she could smother his face in kisses. “Not in 7 years had I laid eyes on this handsomely dressed son~!”  
“Mama, am I not always dressed handsomely?” Ivy teased and leaned into her embrace.  
She chuckled. “It’s simply that you haven’t changed since your early manhood… To think that tiny shirt and slacks could still fit your score and a tenth body.”  
Ivy felt the heat of embarrassment and finally pulled away to descend to ground level. “To call me by a name of ‘tiny’ is too ill fitting, don’t you think? Adultus sum, mama!” He snagged a fig from the fruit bowl.   
“Etiam, fili, but you’re hardly taller than this devilish maiden who’s eye you caught.”  
Ivy grimaced. “Speaking of which, vale, mama…” He cracked open the front door. “I have to meet her father for a ride to the center. Wish me luck!”  
“Vale, fili mi! Te amamus!” Her voice was not as chipper as he’d normally expect. It left a feathering concern in him as the cottage faded between the trees.

Ivy regretted not hauling with him his normal cloak. He had been so caught up in being presentable, that he forgot the time of year and its unforgiving nature. As he shivered amongst the frost, he squinted in the light of an oncoming car he was both delighted and disgusted to have recognized. The window rolled down and Tipsy’s face poked out of it.  
“Why, Ivy, you dressed up just for me?”  
Ivy leered. “Don’t get your hopes up, Princess, this is customary.” Despite Tipsy’s naturally chilling aura, Ivy still relished in the heat of the AC. He couldn’t help but stare a small while at the dress that cascaded across Tipsy’s legs and the cushions of her seat. The seatbelt kept it from untucking beneath her, but he still admired how she looked in matching red. Though he itched at the need to ask how she knew he’d wear the same hue, he instead cleared his throat and looked forward. “Thank you for picking me up, Mr Szekeres…”  
He tilted the rearview mirror and looked him in the eye. “Keep a close eye on her and make sure nothing happens.” His voice was as cold as ever.  
“Yes, sir,” Ivy stammered. He was utterly relieved that the center was so close by. His relief immediately shattered seeing the church sitting right next door.  
Tipsy sighed and admired it from over Ivy’s shoulder. “Isn’t its mere architecture breathtaking? People put their blood, sweat, and tears into making the House of the Lord.”  
Ivy was careful not to slip on the ice that built up beneath his feet. “It looks moldy, old, and full of cockroaches.” He took pleasure in seeing Tipsy’s glare.  
“Behave yourselves. I’ll be here to pick you up at nine,” Mr Szekeres hollered out the window. His glare, on the other hand, sent unwanted shivers down Ivy’s spine, even while it was blurred by the winter frost.  
“Does your father ever relax..?”  
Tipsy giggled. “Not really. Let’s go, it’s chilly out here!” She tugged him in by the sleeve and gandered at the small crowd bustling around the dancefloor. “I had no idea so many people took interest in this type of ritual…”  
“Please don’t call it that…” Ivy carefully took her by the arm to keep her close and tried to ignore her pleased face at the gesture to instead focus on keeping his feet on the ground. “He dropped us off in time to get you a quick lesson before it starts… You said you’ve never done this before, so it’s best too-”  
“You’ve never done this? You need an angel!” a child likely no older than 8 exclaimed.   
Tipsy seemed amused at this. “An angel, you say?”  
Ivy grumbled to her, “That’s what they call children who teach square dancing…”  
She squealed softly. “How sweet! Oh, I’m so glad you brought me here!” She turned to the kid. “I’d love to learn a thing or two from someone so closely connected to the Lord!”  
This brought a grin to their face as they took her hand. “Let’s get started!” There wasn’t much debating if Ivy could join. He needed a slight brush up himself, though he still loved seeing Tipsy’s mild confusion when she’d get the steps mixed up.   
“I gotta go help Ms Jenson out now, but you two can practice!” They said happily and bounded off to help a fragile looking old lady.  
Ivy leaned against the wall with a chuckle. “What a sweet kid. I don’t think I was ever as nice as that.”  
“To expect you to be nice, even as a child, would be too much for a demon such as yourself!” Tipsy chuckled.  
“Oh shut up! You’re one to talk, Ms Shoplifts Shoes!”  
“You’re the one that took them!”  
Ivy, instead of bothering to continue to argue, turned her towards the snack table. “Look! Food! Go fetch!” This surprisingly worked, and the two managed to get little morsels of crackers, fruit, and mini-sausages. “Don’t eat too much because it might get upset while moving around too much.”  
Tipsy scoffed. “As if I’d be a pig like that!” She failed to force down a belch. Ivy pointed and laughed. Tipsy pouted for a moment, but smirked and lightly wiped a bit of stray food from his cheek and licked it off her thumb. Right before Ivy could say anything sassy to combat the heat flaring in his cheeks, the announcer of the event commanded all participants to the floor.  
“You ready? Never too late to back out,” Ivy sang. He was forcibly shoved onwards. As their hands met, ready for the music to guide them, they stared each other down with a challenging glint. Tipsy’s smile on the surface was as calm as ever, but between their eyes was a spark that met a specific type of respect.   
The fiddles played them off, and the floor was a blur of tule and tapping feet. In a graceful wave of bodies, Tipsy only stumbled once. Just as Ivy was ready to show off, they were ripped from each other as they had to swap partners. He was disappointed seeing her face glide into the crowd, and despite the obvious skill of his new partner, he found himself searching for her amongst the steps, claps, and laughter. It was odd, finding that a part of him missed her mocking presence.   
Then, amid the moving machine of the dance, Ivy spotted her ribbon. It was a struggle to keep an eye on it, but with enough focus he managed to switch close enough. Their eyes met again, though her exhaustion was becoming apparent despite her attempt to keep a strong face in Ivy’s eyes. He reached for her, but right as their hands met, the music stopped. They were both out of breath.  
“Need to sit?” Ivy asked.  
“Only if you do,” Tipsy challenged.  
Ultimately, they had to concede and find seats by the table. There was a moment of tender silence as the two caught their breath and something to drink.  
“I forgot how much that took out of me…” Ivy heaved and pulled his hair loose from the ribbon.  
“I had a vision that our exhaustion would bring us down,” Tipsy sighed in exasperation. “Little did I know it would be this quick…” Ivy slapped her arm.  
“Did you talk to anyone about your vision thing..?” He glared up through his bangs that curtained his face.  
Tipsy simply shook her head. “There wasn’t enough time to. I could hardly hear myself think out there…” She watched the people come and go before her. There were few that approached or even looked their way. “My foresight saw little interaction as well…”  
Ivy groaned. “Good. No one needs to hear about your delusions of grandeur.” His hand combed through his somewhat tangled hair. His fingers tugged out with a small curse under his breath. “I say just be glad you got out here in the first place. You-” and she was gone.  
In front of some homely, elderly couple.  
“Tipsy!” Ivy rushed towards her while forgetting to walk normally. “Hey!”  
One of the old biddies pointed and asked politely, “Is that strange young man a friend of yours?”  
Before Ivy could say anything, his arm was taken. “Why, more than a friend, I’d say!” This caused the two to laugh and take each other by the arm.  
“Cynthia and I met back in ‘63 on this very floor!”  
“Oh, Martha, we didn’t start dancin’ until ‘65! Don’t mind her, the ol’ memory got conked today!” She received a bap to the head from her wife.  
Ivy nervously chuckled. “That’s cute, but we’re not really,” Ivy stammered, “we only know each other through-” swallow, “you see-”  
“WE met through a discussion of Scripture,” Tipsy joyously announced. “He’s quite passionate about it, you see.”  
“Yeah,” Ivy put flatly. “We can argue for hours.” This, again, sent the couple into a hoot of laughter. “I think we need some fresh air, ma’ams, mind if we step out?”  
Martha and Cynthia happily excused them, and Tipsy was dragged out before she could elaborate on their meeting.  
“Tipsy! The last thing people want-”  
“Is to hear about my visions, I know,” she interjected with annoyance. “If I’d known YOU would be the one to keep me from making connections, I’d have gotten up sooner!”  
Ivy growled and leaned against the wall. He didn’t pay mind to how the brick was just as cold as the wind that billowed Tipsy’s dress. “Why can’t you talk without bringing religion up? Those sweet old ladies don’t need to hear about the newest, up and coming cult leader!”  
“I’m not starting a cult!” Tipsy exclaimed. “Why are you so bothered by the mention of it? What can be so awful about He Who Loves All? Why do you think it’s a bad thing that I’m a vessel for Him? Just because YOU have bad experiences doesn’t mean everyone should avoid me!”  
Ivy turned away. There was a pain in this throat he couldn’t swallow. “You could be so much better than him, but you keep fighting those opportunities… Why? Why is it so bad to just have friends? How bad can it really be to just let people be people and not followers?” He held himself. “Why do you have to taint everything you touch?”  
“But I heal.” Tipsy’s voice grew closer and softer. “If you’d just let me heal, you’d see.” He could feel her soft hair brush his collar and back of the neck as she rested her forehead against him. “Let me help you feel whole again.”  
Ivy’s shuddered. The warmth inside when feeling her touch… it burned. He could swear his breath wisped thicker in the air when he sighed heavily. He observed its shape as he faded and escaped to the world. “If I let you try, will you stop..?”  
“Really?” Her voice was just above a whisper. Her arms slithered across his body as she held him in a one sided embrace. “You won’t regret it.”  
“I better not.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bath time  
> (TW heavy talk of blood)

Around the back of the church, the stench of garbage muddied some of the tension, but it still didn’t dull the edge Ivy was on as the duo attempted a way into the church. Obviously, all the doors were locked, and it was hard getting to a sliding window. Tipsy was particularly frustrated that Ivy had a limit to how high he could float, demanding that he had simply never “stretched” enough.  
“You’re such a brat when you don’t get your way, you know,” Ivy scolded as he fiddled around with a nail inside the lock on the back door.  
Tipsy scoffed. “It’s not being bratty when it’s entirely avoidable to be locked out of what should be my property, anyway.”  
“Okay, charlatan, how about you start doing something to help, then?” This was nowhere near as fun as it sounded. Breaking into a church was boring at best, it turned out. Out of pure luck, though, something inside clicked, and the knob turned. “Oh, thank fuck…”  
Tipsy peered over him inside and brushed past him to grope around to the light switch. The moonlight from outside was no help at all, and once Ivy had stepped in, bumping into each other was inevitable. “Hello there~!”  
Ivy groaned and patted around. “This must be the storage closet… man, city chapels are so fancy, this probably isn’t the only one!”  
“I’ve been here on occasion. It’s hard to resist with it’s excellent architecture…” One hand grabbed Ivy’s waist (making him jump) and another flicked on a lightswitch that blinded Ivy temporarily.   
“Well,” Ivy hissed, “at least we can see…” He pried the dainty hand off his person and looked around at the recreational activities tucked away neatly near sports gear. “They have a gym?”  
“You’ve seen a church that didn’t..?” Tipsy picked up and dribbled a nearby basketball from a hamper.  
Ivy sighed. “The one in my village was just for worship. All play was to be outside,” he said with a rather hollow tone. He shrugged his shoulders like it was more a rumor than a fact. Tipsy didn’t seem to pay that mind, however, and he quietly opened another door. “Let’s get going, yeah?”  
Tipsy tucked the ball under her arm and soon led the way. “Their baptism area is just beyond the podium in the main room.”  
A low, pained groan echoed the halls as heels dragged across dull, dirty carpet. “I don’t feel so good…” Ivy rubbed his temples with closed eyes. His arm was pulled behind Tipsy as she continued with little delay.  
“Soon enough, that won’t be the case.”  
Ivy didn’t even bother to question how she knew how to get to the baptism pool when she had only occasionally attended. He was too tired from the pressure slowly crushing his thoughts that kept him afloat. By the time they reached a hall full of choir uniforms, his feet were the things carrying his limp, clammy body through the spiritually crowded doorways.   
“We’re close, I can see it,” Tipsy whispered, her bangs reigned back. “It won’t be too long until I can prove it.” She finally turned when Ivy’s head hit her shoulder. There was a light chuckle that was muffled by the forces surrounding them. “Don’t play sleepy yet, you. It’ll be over soon!”  
“Tipsy,” Ivy whimpered with a weak clutch to her sleeve. “Just let me sit down, okay? For a minute?”  
“No,” she rejected. “It’s right here. You’ll be freed from your Satanic chains and no longer be tethered to the evil realm of Hell.” Ivy’s shoulders were shaken by her righteous hands. “Steps away is your freedom!”  
His weak body slumped against her, and he was forced into an embrace to keep himself from being on the ground. “Please…”  
Tipsy’s arms were cautious to reciprocate. It was difficult to think of what she could be feeling, let alone thinking, but he felt her heavy sigh into his neck as their knees sank to off-white carpeting. “Five seconds of this. Then we go through.”  
There was no verbal response. For a moment, Ivy’s body felt numb and light after feeling so heavy just moments before. He collected himself and tightened his arms around her. “I can’t guarantee that this will work out how you want it to.”  
“I see a future for you, Ivy. One that could be so beautiful if you trust me.”  
“I see no future for someone like me who keeps getting caught by people like you.” Still, he nuzzled her and took in her scent. Sweet, soft, subtle. It would be a shame to get this dress filthy.   
“Time to get up.” He apparently was light enough for Tipsy to haul off the floor. Her gentle fingers lightly dusted him off, and his hair was tenderly brushed out of his face. Their eyes locked onto each other, and while this connection brought little energy back to his body, Ivy felt enough motivation to take a dip.  
The oak doors creaked open. The pews were numerous, wide, and velvet upholstered. Ivy craned his neck to observe the three whole floors made just for the audience. His eyes slid down the long walkway beyond the podium just yards away from the door. Right as the sheer size was sinking in, they slipped into a small stairway leading behind the stage.  
“I guess they did a baptism today, how blessed!”  
Still as glass, rippling only from the vibration of their footsteps, and down below was the Holy Water bath. The very sight made Ivy shake and pull away from Tipsy’s suddenly threatening touch.  
He shouldn’t be here. By God, he shouldn’t be here! Instincts were offering to kick in. His foot slowly pushed back; it inched towards the door in a quiet yet desperate attempt to get a small headstart in escape.  
“Ivy?” Tipsy grabbed his sleeves. Trapped. “Take off your shoes, please?” He slowly looked down and saw her own were set to the side with her stockings.  
He gave her a hesitant nod, but remained still. Pushed into a chair, Ivy sat frozen in terror as his shoes and socks were removed. Her hand crept up his calf, and it took everything in him not to kick her. “Don’t,” he snarled.  
His feral glare stunned her for a moment. For a moment. Tipsy elegantly rose to her feet and offered a hand. It was rejected, even with his uneven gait. Closer the water approached. The deeper it looked. Tipsy, however, fearlessly took the first steps down and giggled about how it was lukewarm.  
“Ivy,” Tipsy warned. “There’ll not be a chance quite like this one again.”  
“Good,” he uttered breathlessly. His feet carefully nudged forward. The dampness stung the bottom of his toes, and the more water on his person, the more he collected from way back when- the water like acid on his ever healing skin, how it steamed about him, how he blacked out at submersion.  
It all stopped there.  
He stopped just at the top step.  
Skin descending featherlight. The ache of silence growing within his very brain, the regret clawed at his heart, and prey to the prayers that condemned his unholy flesh to burn at the blood of Christ. O’ to sin by birth, birth alone the catastrophe to thrust upon His children.  
Yet, ache so did the water at his skin. So deep did it broil his nerves that the water boiled his tears over. Not a noise, though, as he did sink into the depths and accept the calming, dangerous hand that burned him once and again. Was it her touch that stung? Or was it the slick of the water upon her skin did caress? Woe to his breaking heart at the circle of time. Woe to his mind flooding with the water of the Lord.  
Woe to this false prophet’s sanity, unchanged by the blood slowly engulfing their unwitting bodies. Deeper still, did the depths of which his death pit called, and her chant to cast away his sin was naught but slurs within his ever clouding mind.  
The light of the world cut out.

Floating. Not by Ivy’s own volition, but the weightlessness of the abyss. His breath unnoticeable, nor his bare skin, to the unyielding crossing of the afterlife. He could see in the distance above him in the fractured light of the deep grey waters was a kind he recognized, yet barely named. The yearning he felt for it stabbed his heart- Pain? No, he shouldn’t feel pain here. Should he? Nothing should be felt. Damnation dictated he remain with no feeling. Yet, something inside him, something he gasped in response to, something that made him breathe-

The lights blurred past the grey, murky waters. The silhouette of a figure calling to him glowered above. He gurgled. Air…

Air!   
Ivy thrust up and vomited blood all over the floor. His body ached. His ears rang. Anything whoever it was had been saying fell on near deaf ears as he barely managed to grasp his surroundings. Why was he here? Something was holding him, but everything hurt too much for him to care.

Time was smeared in his memory as he found himself slowly coming to on the floor of what appeared to be a locker room. “Where am I?” He said slowly and weakly. His voice cracked as though the chords hadn’t been used in years.  
“The church locker room,” a familiar voice answered. The echo was something to get used to as opposed to the muffled noises from earlier. He was too tired, though, to strain himself to see who said it.  
“I stink,” he whined softly.  
There was a light giggle. “You were in a pool of your own blood,” they said as if that were normal, let alone obvious.  
His clothes clung heavily to his body. He knew what they were, and he was simply thankful that they were red and black. If he rinsed them fast enough, they wouldn’t stain anything brown in the long term… The…  
The sight of Tipsy coming out with only a towel on was almost enough to make him sit up, but it was still too painful, so he squeezed his eyes shut instead like a child. “PUT SOME CLOTHES ON!” Oh god, his voice cracked so horridly, oh fuck.  
Tipsy smirked and kneeled down by him. “Only if you get out of yours~” she teased.  
Ivy’s attempt at a scream of terror was cracked and weak at best, leaving Tipsy in a mound of her own laughter.   
“I need to wash them! We can just put on the choir uniforms, you know.”  
Ivy coughed. “Give me a second.” His body jittered on the tiles as he struggled to focus. Slowly, but surely, he did manage to rise, but only an inch off the ground.   
Tipsy frowned in confusion. “You can still do that…”  
“There’s only one way to check if it really worked,” Ivy sighed and started undoing his button up. He didn’t care at this point if it was just his chest- she’d seen that before anyway. His blood stained hair fell in front of his eyes just as he reached midway.   
He slowly pulled apart the fabric.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to do more with the speech that goes with baptism but I opted out because I'm lazy :3  
> This took a lot of thought and I really should proofread these, but heck, when it comes to fanfiction, I'm a pantser mostly


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